


Forever Ain't Half the Time...

by QueenKatelynTheAristocrat



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Adorable, Banter, Canon Compliant, Cute, Fluff, Happy, M/M, Nostalgia, Soulmates, True Love, deep thoughts, pure fluff, ten year anniversary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 14:34:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21101054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenKatelynTheAristocrat/pseuds/QueenKatelynTheAristocrat
Summary: "October would always have a special place in Phil Lester’s heart. And not just because of the seasonal drinks at Starbucks and the general spooky atmosphere.The main reason was that he would always associate October -- and Fall in general, to be honest -- with Daniel Howell. The changing of the leaves would always remind him of the first (and only) time he’d ever fallen in love."Also known as: pure nostalgic fluff dedicated to and inspired by Dan and Phil's ten year anniversary, and everything they've meant to each other and to all of us for those ten years.





	Forever Ain't Half the Time...

October would always have a special place in Phil Lester’s heart. And not just because of the seasonal drinks at Starbucks and the general spooky atmosphere. Both of those things certainly played a part in his love for the Halloween season, of course, but they weren’t the  _ main  _ reason. 

The main reason was that he would always associate October -- and Fall in general, to be honest -- with Daniel Howell. The changing of the leaves would always remind him of the first (and only) time he’d ever fallen in love. 

Of course, after ten years in a steady relationship, he sometimes took his luck for granted. When he woke up cold and alone in the middle of the night and wandered to the living room in search of his missing personal heater and found him sitting on the sofa, curled into himself without a phone or a laptop, just thinking, and when, at the sound of the door creaking open and Phil’s soft footsteps, Dan would look up, meet his eyes, and smile like Phil was the only thing he needed in that moment, he sometimes forgot to be grateful for the warm feeling that would fill his entire body like summertime or warm fireplaces. 

And when he would sit next to Dan and open his arms, and Dan would fall into them gratefully and they would sit there for hours with no need for words, he would sometimes forget to drink in the sensory beauty of those moments: the softness of Dan’s hair under his fingers, the smell of him that reminded Phil of home and love and happiness, and the way Dan’s heart would beat, quickly at first from the thoughts that filled his mind when he was alone, and then slower as he was calmed by Phil’s reassuring presence. 

Sometimes, on those nights, Dan would reach out and intertwine their fingers together. Dan would squeeze his hand once, and Phil would squeeze back, and then they’d just leave their hands there, resting on the sofa, loosely held together, and even when his arm started to fall asleep, Phil wouldn’t let go, and he knew Dan felt the same way, because in the morning they would have to let go and pretend they didn’t spend their nights curled into each other like they were trying to become one being, and they didn’t know each others bodies as well as the routes back to their hometowns, and Phil knew that if it wasn’t for these moments, late at night, he would never be able to look into Dan’s eyes during the day and pretend he couldn’t feel himself falling into those warm brown depths the same way he had ever since the first time he saw them in person. 

And sometimes, in the light of the day, outside of the safe confines of their own little world, Phil had to admit he would let the resentment he felt when he saw a man and a woman walk down the street with their arms wrapped around each other and their hands in each others back pockets take him over, and he would forget to be grateful for what he did have. 

Sure, those “normal” couples had something that Phil would never have, but more often than not the people they passed in the street were alone. Lonely, unhappy, bereft of any kind of love. 

Most people never found their soulmates at all, so what right did Phil have to resent the fact that society wouldn’t allow him to spend every second physically connected to his? Besides, just walking down the street, sitting in a restaurant, going to the pub with a group of friends, with Dan by his side was more than enough. Just knowing that he’d never have to face the world alone ever again made Phil want to say things that Dan would roll his eyes at, but secretly loved hearing. 

Before he met Dan Howell, Phil hadn’t believed in love. And if he had, he hadn’t thought it was something he would ever have for  _ himself.  _

He’d kind of thought that he was the kind of person who was too strange to be loved completely. The kind of person who had a lot of friends, but would never have a best friend. Who had a lot of one-night lovers, but would never have a partner in life. All of that changed the moment that Dan Howell crashed into his life like a meteor: damaged, cynical, and depressed, but overflowing with affection disguised as lust, searching for exactly the kind of connection Phil had never thought he would get to have. 

He remembered walking home from his shitty job to his shittier Manchester apartment, giddy with excitement, really  _ feeling  _ the sharp fall air for the first time in years, almost jogging down the sidewalk because he knew that the moment he got home he could call Dan on Skype and imagine what it would be like to see him in person, to wrap his arms around him and find out for the first time what home smelled like, and with thoughts like those in mind, he knew he could listen to Dan complain about his dad or his awful hometown for hours and never get bored. 

Not that listening to Dan complain was ever boring. Even to this day, Dan Howell on a passionate rant was one of his favorite Dan Howells, right behind the Dan that their viewers had nicknamed “Heart-Eyes Howell” and the Dan who came out everytime Phil kissed him with intent, the one that nobody but Phil would ever see again as long as they both lived. 

Phil was quite happy about that fact. The idea that Dan was his for eternity, that no one else would ever -- or had ever -- seen the side of him that Phil knew better than his own soul, the side of Dan that was sweet and caring, vulnerable, and willing to let him in to the fascinating labyrinth that was Dan Howell’s brilliant mind, as well as the passion that filled his eyes every time Phil worshipped his body, was the most precious thing in the world. 

Phil didn’t think they’d ever get married. Marriage was for people who had something to prove, and he and Dan didn’t. They didn’t need some big event to show their love for each other; they already did that in a million little ways that meant so much more to them than two pieces of diamond jewelry ever could. 

They’d already said their vows in the safety of their bed, under cover of night and surrounded by the sound of the never-ending bustle of the city they both loved, when the air was cold but they were warm in each others’ embrace, in the home they’d built for themselves in the world that was born when they first met eyes and smiled in a dingy train station, and realized at the exact same moment that, yeah, this was exactly what it had seemed like over the phone. 

The gestures they used to show their love might not have been grand, but they were powerful. Like when Dan got a call from his mom and would hand Phil the phone with a small shake of his head that said, “No, I can’t do this today.” and Phil would answer it for him, already speaking reassurances directly after the first “Hello.” 

Or when Phil would lose himself in his work, writing scripts or editing videos, obsessing for hours over sound effects and thumbnails, whether his jokes were funny, or how obvious their flirting was, and would resurface six hours later and wander into the kitchen to find his laundry washed and folded, his house plants watered, and Dan stirring dinner at the stove, singing along to music that reminded Phil of MySpace and long, straight hair. 

After ten years, love wasn’t something they felt the need to  _ announce,  _ it was just something that  _ was.  _ Something steadfast and unbreakable. Love was inside jokes and stupid text messages, video games at one in the morning and ridiculous anime, brown eyes, brown hair, and ripped black skinny jeans, and a shared passion for the universe they’d built from scratch. 

And sure, sometimes love also meant Dan’s snippy attitude, 500 pound shirts, and petty disagreements. Sometimes love meant Midnight panic attacks and exhausted tears, and sometimes love meant yelling across the flat and slamming doors. But none of that would ever be enough to drive Phil away from everything else, everything wonderful and pure, golden and freeing that love meant. 

To Phil, love meant Dan Howell, and home meant wherever Dan was. 

This had been true for ten years, and Phil just knew, the same way he knew the earth was round and the universe was endless and life was a gift, that this would be true for the rest of his life. 

He had spent so long as one half of Dan and Phil that even when they separated their professional brands from each others’ names, he couldn’t imagine himself in  _ real life  _ as anything else. 

Dan always said they were soulmates, and Phil was amazed every time by the fact that Dan really  _ meant  _ it. 

When he was younger and more insecure, he’d often asked himself “why on earth?” Dan was more attractive than him, smarter than him, funnier than him. Why would someone who shone so brightly as Dan want to spend a single day much less his entire life with someone like Phil? 

It wasn’t until he found out Dan felt the exact same way that Phil realized the truth: it was love that made them shine so brightly to each other, love that made Dan seem perfect in Phil’s eyes, and Phil seem perfect in Dan’s. Phil even liked to think that the reason people liked watching them together in videos so much was because they brought out the best in each other. 

Phil was warmed by the idea of the comfort they brought to each other, the way their souls fell quiet in each others’ presence, the way they made each others’ anxiety dissipate like steam into the cold winter air, emanating through the screen and providing a bit of that same comfort to their viewers. 

People had told him at meet and greets and when they were on tour and during spontaneous encounters on the street, that the only time they felt calm was when they watched his and Dan’s videos, that the sound of their voices drove their anxiety away like a pill never could, and he’d never told Dan this -- because he’d surely freak out -- but Phil fancied to think it was because people could sense their love for each other even through the double layer of the screen and their pretense, that in some sort of innate, human, way, they could just  _ tell.  _

Dan would probably tell him the idea was silly, but Phil wasn’t sure. Dan’s trauma had made him too much of a cynic, Phil thought sometimes. Dan had told him once that he didn’t believe in forever, but he believed in forever with Phil. 

Another of the vows they made to each other that some ceremony could never compete with. Dan didn’t have to say those words in front of an audience for Phil to believe him. 

And sometimes, sure, Phil took words like those for granted. But sometimes, on days like today, ten years exactly since the day they first met, the weight of them would hit him like a freight train. 

Sure, he’d known all month that this day was coming up. As if their followers could ever let him forget. He’d been scrolling through the fanart all week on Tumblr, and he’d even convinced Dan to sit down with him the other day and just marvel at what they’d inspired, how much they’d changed the lives of so many people, and just be grateful. 

But the full weight of the day, the meaning it held for  _ him  _ and his real life, didn’t really hit until he was walking back to their apartment with two drinks from Starbucks, the cold October air driving him on faster than he usually would walk. 

His conscious mind had been focused on the video he planned to film that day, the call he needed to make to his brother, and whether or not he’d  _ actually  _ remembered Dan’s coffee request correctly or he just  _ thought  _ he had, when the reality of it hit him straight in the face. 

Ten years. Ten  _ years.  _ A decade of the kind of love he’d never thought was for people like him, a tenth of his life spent with the only person who’d ever looked at him and  _ understood,  _ an entire universe created in what was -- in the grand scheme of things -- only the beginning of the eternity he planned to spend with Daniel Howell. Ten years. That was a big deal. 

These sorts of existential thoughts plagued him all the way to the front door of their apartment, which he pushed open with his elbow and shoulder through force of habit, and through their kitchen to the living room. 

At the sound of his approach, Dan carelessly shoved aside his laptop, stood from the couch and stretched his arms above his head, then said, “Thank God, the caffeine has arrived.” 

He then sauntered over to Phil and plucked his coffee out of his hand and said, “Oh, and you too, of course.” 

When Phil failed to provide a witty comeback by the time Dan had made it back to the couch and dropped himself back down on it, taking a long sip of his coffee, Dan realized something was off. He studied Phil’s face a bit closer, raised an eyebrow in concern, and said, “You alright?” 

Phil shook his head to clear it and walked over to sit beside Dan, absentmindedly placing his own coffee on the table, admittedly still a bit floored by his realization, because  _ ten years,  _ and said, “I’m fine. I love you. A lot. Just so you know.” 

Dan studied his expression with unimpressed pursed lips and said, “The fangirls. They got to you, didn’t they? I told you looking at that stuff could give you an existential crisis, and look at you! It has.” 

“I’m not having an existential crisis.” Phil defended, though he wasn’t completely sure that was true, not that he was going to tell Dan that, “And I don’t need the fangirls to tell me that ten years is a big deal.” 

Dan tried to keep up his cynical expression, but he was smiling just a little bit, which made Phil grin wide and unashamed. “Yeah right.” he scoffed, “You’ve got that look in your eye. The one you get when you spend too long scrolling through the Dan and Phil tag on Tumblr.” 

Phil leaned closer and hooked one of his ankles around Dan’s, leaning one hand on the sofa and the other on Dan’s thigh, and said, “I’ll have you know that I haven’t been on Tumblr since this morning. This is all me. Just me being incredibly and over _ whel _ mingly in love with you.” 

Phil felt a hit of satisfaction when Dan gave up and smiled, and couldn’t stop himself from pushing Dan’s hair back off his forehead, and moving so that he was a bit closer to falling into Dan’s lap. “Maybe that’s true, but they’ve still been filling your head with soppiness all week. I think the weight they’ve put on this has overemphasized the importance of this day in your mind. And therefore, this must be the fangirls and not you.” 

Pleased with the flirting, Phil reached over to close Dan’s laptop, took the coffee out of Dan’s hand and twisted around to put it on the table next to his own, and when he turned back around, Dan had a challenging look in his eye that Phil knew all too well. “Hmm. Well, I disagree, and I think I have a way I can prove it to you.” 

“Oh, do you, now?” Dan asked, but his tone no longer matched his words, and that’s how Phil knew he’d won. 

“Oh yes, I do.” Phil said, already leaning in. Dan certainly didn’t resist. In fact, he didn’t even put up his usual show of clinging to dominance, but instead allowed Phil to pin him back into the sofa, and just clung to the back of Phil’s jumper as their kiss deepened. And that’s how Phil knew the real truth. 

He broke away after a few minutes, and leaned back just enough to whisper, “You’re letting our anniversary get to you as well. Wanker.” 

As he expected, Dan leaned his head back another inch and said, “Bullshit. I am not.” 

“In that case, what’s this nostalgic submissiveness, then?” Phil asked, “A midlife crisis?” 

Dan huffed out a laugh against Phil’s lips and said, “No, I’m fine. I just love you. Like, a lot.” 

Phil laughed too, and said, “Shut up.” Then brought their lips together for another kiss. 

It only took them about another ten minutes before they were making their way to “Dan’s” bedroom and then Phil was covering Dan’s body with his own. 

“I really do love you, you know.” Phil said, all traces of teasing gone. 

Dan opened his eyes into Phils, and Phil felt that familiar sense of falling. “I love you too. More than anything in the world.” Dan said, and Phil believed it. With all of his soul he believed it. 

Ten years was a long time, but it wasn’t even a drop in the bucket compared to the eternity he wanted to spend with Dan Howell, surrounded by the smell of home and the all-consuming, slow-burning fire of Phil’s personal definition of true love. 

Soulmates didn’t even begin to define what they were to each other. But it was certainly a good place to start. 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and Comments make my day! <3  
Title from Troye Sivan's "What a Heavenly Way to Die"


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